Friday, June 7, 2013

Being Enough

"I'm tired of this! I'm sick of all of this!" she ranted.

Standing over a sink full of too-large-for-the-dishwasher pots and bowls, she set into them with ferocity. Turning the faucet on harder than necessary, the gushing water mirrored her frustration with all that was wrong with this hateful life. Too much soap was added, but the billowing foam was somehow comforting.

The self-talk had chiseled away for days, carving anger and dissatisfaction across her tired, unruly-beating heart. The torrent of words unleashed was the result of dammed up regret, hurt, and confusion over the last few months.

"I was getting better. I was!" the hot tears began to pressure and sting her eyes. But they couldn't get up the courage to course down her face, and she was trapped and bottled into repressive muscle memory.

"It's no use; I might as well stop even trying for all the good it has done me."

The scrubbing was furious and deliberate; the poor dishes would bear some permanent markings.

"Why, God? Why so much wrong with the world? Why am I so helpless? I can't even handle my own life, yet I still want so badly to fix things so that others don't needlessly suffer."

"I want to be the strong one. The mom with the backyard the neighbor kids come to for refuge. The strong friend with a ready meal to help the new mother or ill church member. The friend who soul-strengthens the weary over cups of tea or coffee. The hard worker whose job gives dignity and whose recompense provides the means for the extras in life I envisioned for my children. The woman who is not a burden to her hard-working, patient partner."

No one outside of herself gave her these impressions of how life should be. They were just carved into her being; the desires of her existence- her life-dreams. But she never expected life to include a body of constant limitations. Most youths favor the idea of their invincibility; frailty always comes as a hard reality jolt. Her growing story, though dotted with inconveniences, wasn't supposed to include inabilities; wasn't supposed to look like neediness.

"I don't want to be the needy one!" she blurted in anguish.

The dish cloth, dripping suds, was now clenched tightly and lifted roughly in a water-worn fist.

"I want to be the helper. I want to be the one that reaches the broken and the hurting. I want to matter. I want the dignity of contribution; to make lives better. I want to be the benefactor, not the beneficiary."

TO BE...


The soppy, crocheted rag slipped out of her hands, drifting unhurried into the graying water.
Her mouth fell open and the hot tears vanished. A calm settled on her, silent as a death.

So this, this is what it's about.

She needed some time to think; time to be quiet with this new revelation.

She needed to rest. Recover. Rediscover the dignity of being human. Being enough. 


  1. I wonder if you realize how much you've helped people who read your blog. many evenings I have not had peace and yet found it in the truth and love of one of your posts.

  2. Oh sweet sister! Thank you for your encouragement. <3 you!

  3. Sweet, dear Jamie! What a blessing you have been to so many including myself! Yes, you can be needy, but at the same time your life blesses so many others. You learn to rest in Christ and in so doing you encourage others to do the same. I love you!!!!

  4. I'm blessed to call you my mommy. I love you, too!


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